The writings of Oddpoet

They drag the blade
Across the flesh of their wrists
The well­spring of their lives
Spray you in the face
And you twist away
You twist away!
First instinct
To jerk to the left
From the exhil­a­rat­ing blast
Caught off guard
Just right
To retard the intel­lect…
They will live
They will last the night
As they lick the last drop
From your sight.

Do not regard me
In any manner.

I am the motion
Not the flesh
Nor the explo­sive spray.
I remain saner
Than the illu­sion you eye.

But I
See them
And that is my insan­ity…
Mine alone.
I see
The cut.
I see the spray.
I see the inevitable
Turn­ing away….

I am never a part
But apart fuck­ing
Dis­as­so­ci­a­tion…
And pray­ing
For Immac­u­late Con­cep­tion
Amongst the betraying.

Look!
WHAT MORE CAN THEY DO?
There is noth­ing more than death
They can give to you!
But you take their first born…
You do…
And you sac­ri­fice them
At the first turn of the full moon
With their wrists raised
In offering…

And I work.
I do.

Do not regard me
In any manner.

I am the motion
Not the flesh
Nor the explo­sive spray.
I remain saner
Than the illu­sion you eye.

I merely lie
In bed at night
And cry…
For my piti­ful self
For I will never
Accept their deci­sions
Of cen­sor­ship,
Com­mer­cial­iza­tion,
Wor­ship
Of power… recog­ni­tion
Within this hour

I hate you
In a way that they won’t.
They want your money.
I don’t.

©Jen2010 7–26

This entry was posted on Monday, July 26th, 2010 at 10:40 pm and is filed under Para Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.